


Reverse, Not Backwards

by argle_fraster



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, largely canon-compliant, only a small divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argle_fraster/pseuds/argle_fraster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Ryan watches his last musical slowly slip away, he also watches Troy dealing with something else that is slipping past his fingers, and they both come out winners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverse, Not Backwards

**Author's Note:**

> Written in early 2009, I am re-posting this because a) I like it and b) the Troy/Ryan tag is woefully slim on AO3.

He found Troy sitting back behind the curtains on one of the overturned speakers.

"Are you boycotting rehearsal?" he asked, hoping for a negative. There wasn't a response, and Ryan glanced over his shoulder at Darbus and Sharpay, speaking animatedly about the newest changes to be made to the script. "I would understand if you were."

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," Troy sighed, half-muffled by his hands covering his face.

"I'm sorry," Ryan said, kicking lightly at the speaker the other boy was resting on. "For what it's worth, I wanted Gabriella to stay."

He didn't even have to lie about it. In the orchestra pit, the piano started playing the beginnings of the duet; soft fingers flying across the keys. It seemed enough to startle Troy back awake again, and he shook his head as if dislodging his thoughts.

"I just–" he started, and then sighed again, looking up to the lighting equipment. "Sharpay is no Gabriella."

"Not in the least," Ryan said, grinning. "But don't let her hear you say that."

The song continued behind them, interrupted by Sharpay's high-pitched exclamation and a sudden bang, as if Kelsi had been startled. Ryan didn't need to turn around to know his sister was arguing with the girl–he could hear the repeated smacks of Sharpay's palm on the polished piano surface as she drove her point home.

"So are you coming?" Ryan asked, torn between keeping Troy in the production and rescuing the piano player from the rampage. "It's just a few numbers, no big deal. It'll be relatively painless."

"Yeah," Troy agreed, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired. "Alright."

Convinced he would stick around, Ryan left him there and made his way to the orchestra pit, and deep down, he knew the pain wasn't from the musical at all.

\-----

Darbus caught him after practice let out, in the halls when he thought he could escape.

"Mr. Evans," she called, and he stopped, frowned, and spun on his heel to face her. "We're going to need to change some of the choreography now."

"Sharpay can learn Gabriella's dances," he said, frowning deeper. Darbus looked as tired as Troy had; lines on her forehead and a hitch to her walk. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I think you know as well as I do that Miss Evans brings something very different to the production than Miss Montez did," Darbus said, and when she looked at him, he could only nod. At least she was tactful about it. "As a result, we're going to be speeding a few of the songs up, and will therefore need to update the dance routines."

"You mean, for just Troy and Sharpay?" he clarified.

"Yes." Darbus turned to leave, and then, pausing, said, "And if you wouldn't mind, I'm a bit concerned about overloading Mr. Bolton right now. I'd rather him practice with someone other than Miss Evans."

He watched her as she walked away, rounding the corner and disappearing from view. Nevermind that he had things to do other than re-do half the musical's routines; now he was giving private lessons. And regardless of whether or not he agreed with Darbus' reasoning, it would still take time he didn't have. He stood for a long time in the hallway before heading out to where Sharpay was waiting, and was too resigned to fight back when she berated him for his lateness.

\-----

"Troy," he said, a day later as the crowd began to scatter from the stage. "Darbus wants me to teach you the new routines."

"Oh," Troy said, slowly. "When?"

"After practice."

There was a long period of silence.

"So, now?" Troy clarified, and when Ryan nodded, sighed. "Fine. Whatever."

He walked off, and Ryan resisted the urge to flash a rather inappropriate finger sign at his retreating back. He started cleaning up the set, pushing aside the balcony and the treehouse backdrops, until a hand clamped down on his arm and startled him.

"Sorry," Kelsi said, cheeks flushed. She bit her lower lip. "I just wanted to–well, I'm wearing green."

"What?" he asked.

"Green," she said again, and then, cheeks reddening further, "to Prom."

"Oh," Ryan said. Then, realization snapping in, "Oh! Right. Okay. Green it is."

"Well, I mean, I just wanted to tell you, so you knew," she said. "And so we wouldn't clash or anything. I mean, I don't know what you are wearing, but I thought–well, that I would check."

"Good," he told her, smiling. "Thanks."

She looked at him for a long moment before grinning and turning away.

\-----

"Left, Troy," Ryan said, as they ran into a set of bleachers folded up and leaning against a wall. "Your _other_ left!"

"Sorry," Troy mumbled, staring down at his shoes.

"Step on the beat," Ryan instructed, biting back his ire. "1, 2, 3–just follow the rhythm of the song."

Amazingly enough, Troy kept on the beat for the next few passes. His hand was tightly gripping Ryan's shoulder; tight enough that the joint had begun to throb slightly, and Ryan had a hunch it didn't have anything to do with dancing. Then Troy stepped right again, instead of left, narrowly missing Ryan's toes and managing to trip slightly backwards.

"Other left," Ryan sighed. "Again."

"Sorry!" Troy exclaimed, finally looking up from the floor and dropping Ryan's hand as if it was scalding hot. "I'm sorry I just can't get it, okay?"

"I don't want to be here either," Ryan grit out.

"Then why are you?" Troy snapped, starting towards the back of the stage.

"You know, it's not me you're mad at," Ryan said. "It's not me, and it's not Darbus, and it's not Sharpay. But you're taking it out on us."

"You're the ones making me do this stupid show!" Troy cried, slamming himself into a seated position on a folding chair that rattled under the force. With nothing to say, Ryan stayed back, crossing his arms and waiting as Troy ran his hands through his hair. There was a period of quiet, and then the other boy let out a long sigh. "No, that's not true. You aren't making me do the show."

"No one is," Ryan pointed out.

"No," Troy agreed, glaring off at the stage curtains.

"So why don't you just quit?" Ryan asked, unable to bite the question back. He didn't really want to have to re-write the entire production _again_.

"Gabriella wanted me to do the show," came the mumbled response.

"So why don't you just quit?" Ryan repeated. When it appeared that no reply was forthcoming, he trudged to the back and sat in the chair next to Troy, reclining and popping his back over the seat.

"I don't know what to do," Troy said.

"About the show?"

"About Gabriella." Another sigh. Ryan bit his lip and stared at the black tape pieces marking the spotlight locations on the wooden boards of the stage. After another silence, he stood back out and offered a hand to Troy. "Ready to keep practicing?"

Troy didn't say anything, and didn't accept his hand to get up, but seemed to be focused on the steps as they went through the balcony routine.

\----

Troy missed rehearsal a few days later, and even Chad didn't know where he was; or at least they didn't think he did, which was as much as they could get out of him while he was sulking about the clown costume that Darbus had handed him. They got through the scenes without him as well as they could and focused on the parts he wasn't in, and as everyone was leaving, Ryan caught sight of him coming in through the back stage door and skulking behind the curtains to keep out of Darbus' vision.

"We're done for the day," Ryan told him, carrying a pile of discarded costumes to the wing. "Where were you?"

"There's a for sale sign in front of Gabriella's house," Troy said.

"So you came here to practice the routine with me?" Ryan asked. "That's a bit–"

"She didn't even tell me!" Troy exploded, slamming one fist into the side of the stage. The sound echoed through the auditorium, making Ryan wince. "She didn't even tell me that her mother was moving! She just left and didn't say a word!"

Ryan kept quiet, and Troy began to pace.

"How am I supposed to do anything if she keeps everything from me?" he ranted, hands in the air. He was glaring down at his shoes, and Ryan wondered if Troy even knew he was still standing there. "That's not fair; that's not a relationship. She just–keeps everything to herself that she thinks might be a problem, and then I get blind-sided. That's now how this is supposed to work!"

"How is it supposed to work?" Ryan asked, quietly.

"We're supposed to talk about things!" Troy cried. "Discuss them before they happen, before she just makes these decisions and doesn't even factor me in! She didn't tell me that she was _leaving_!"

"Troy–" Ryan started.

"I'm done with this!" Troy growled, hitting the wall again. The smack of his palm rung harshly. "Fuck it, I'm done."

For a long time, Ryan wasn't entirely sure what to say. He wasn't even sure why Troy had come here, to the stage, to him and the musical, to work everything out– there were other people he could be talking to, other places he could be. And the musical was so soaked with Gabriella, with memories and their songs; it was a bizarre choice to clear one's head. But maybe that was the point, and he just couldn't see it.

"Don't let Darbus hear you swear," Ryan offered. "You don't want to spend detention painting the set."

He thought perhaps he'd pushed too far, but Troy started to laugh, and the tension was dissolved.

"Yeah," Troy agreed, still chuckling, and when the mirth died out, he sighed.

"What are you going to do?" Ryan asked. "When are you going to tell her?"

"I dunno." Troy kicked at the bleachers near his resting place, scraping the toe of his sneaker across the floor. "Let's just–let' s just keep working on the routine, alright?"

\-------

"Do it again!" Sharpay screeched, stamping her foot on the stage. When the rest of the cast stared at her, mouths agape, she spun on her heel and left, presumably to find Tiara and her Evian bottle. Darbus clapped her hands a second later, and when Ryan got to Troy's side, the other boy looked weary.

"I keep getting the steps wrong," he sighed.

"Come here," Ryan instructed, holding out his hands, and when Troy did as told, Ryan took a step to the left. "Start with your left– and let her lead."

"I thought I was supposed to lead." Troy frowned, fingers clasping down harder around Ryan's own.

"It's Sharpay," Ryan pointed out, and Troy grinned a bit in agreement. "Now, left. Back, left again."

"You're easier to dance with than she is," Troy said, as Sharpay stomped back to the front of the stage. Ryan stepped away, dropping Troy's hands– Sharpay was reading to claim her position opposite the basketball star again– except Troy held on, just for a second longer; a moment, barely even that, and then let go, but it was enough. Enough to register. 

Then Darbus clapped again, and Troy and Sharpay were practicing the routine once more, and Ryan glanced over at Kelsi, who met his gaze and gave him a little smile.

Stepping into the curtain-shadowed wings, he wondered why he felt guilty.

\------

"You've almost got it perfect," Ryan commented, as Troy danced through the entire balcony scene without missing a step.

"Yeah," Troy agreed. "I think I've memorized it well enough."

"I think my work here is done," Ryan said, with a satisfied smile. "Unless of course, you need help with dance moves for Prom or something."

He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth, but still, seeing Troy's face crumble a bit wasn't helping the twisting in his stomach.

"Sorry," he tried, inwardly wincing. "I–I didn't even think."

"No, it's fine," Troy said, scratching the back of his head in a decidedly un-fine manner. "I'm going. I'm not going with anyone, but– I don't really want to miss it."

"Takes the pressure off," Ryan supplied. He hoped that he sounded more enthusiastic than apologetic. Troy started walking away, towards the far side of the stage, one hand still at the back of his head, and then turned to look over his shoulder with an expression that Ryan couldn't read.

"Yeah," was all he said. "No pressure."

\-------

The night of Prom was warm, without a breeze, and they ended up twenty minutes late because Sharpay had last minute doubts about her hair and the number of jeweled flowers in the curls. By the time they picked up Kelsi and Zeke, they had resigned themselves to missing the entrances of all the other students, and Ryan's tux was already getting hot. He stared out the window and tried to ignore Sharpay's giggles and Zeke's lame jokes, and even tried to ignore Kelsi's soft hand in his, because the knots in his stomach wouldn't go away.

They'd managed to get Prom held at the Country Club, which meant there was no shortage of parking spots, and the dance floor was lit by trees covered in white strings of Christmas lights (Ryan suspected Fulton had had a hand in it.). It looked amazing, and very romantic, with several dark corners he just knew would be exploited by the student body. He saw Chad and Taylor near the punch bowl, and Jason talking animatedly to Darbus, who was chaperoning the event. Sharpay and Zeke went in before them, at Sharpay's insistence, and Kelsi looped her hand through his arm when they followed.

It was perfect. But it was still... off.

It took him awhile to realize what it was. Sharpay wanted to dance right in front of the stage– they followed, and spent more time fighting for their places than dancing. Then Kelsi spotted Taylor and wanted to say hi, and he was stuck by the smallest light-covered tree to wait. He finally found Troy by the punch, near Chad and a few other members of the basketball team, but by the time he got over to the buffet tables, Troy was gone.

"Do you want to go dance again?" Kelsi asked, to his left, hand on the crook of his arm.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he said, trying to ignore her hurt look as he took off towards the men's bathroom. He had to maneuver through several slow-dancing couples to avoid Darbus accosting him on the side, and by the time he reached the bathroom, he was slightly out of breath.

He found Troy leaning against one of the sinks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"I shouldn't have come," Troy said, without turning around.

"I thought you didn't want to miss it."

"Yeah, well," he said, and then laughed, devoid of mirth. "It was a stupid idea in hindsight."

There was a long silence, the muffled sound of the music filtering in through the walls, and Troy stood straight, as if to leave. He looked dejected and miserable, like he hadn't slept in days. He looked awful, and Ryan's stomach knotted further, because his date was waiting out on the dance floor, and he was starting to realize that he didn't really want to be dancing with her.

So he stopped thinking entirely, because thinking was getting him into trouble, and when Troy started out of the bathroom, he grabbed him by the arm. He only meant to stop him, but he used a bit more force than necessary, and Troy ended up with his back against the wall. And then Ryan _really_ stopped thinking, so he could lean in and kiss him without thoughts screaming in his head.

He didn't know what he was expecting– a shove, a shout, even a punch to the gut wouldn't have been out of line– but whatever it was, it was not Troy kissing him back and letting his hands tangle in the back of his hair. It couldn't have lasted more than half a minute, and when he finally backed away, Troy looked a bit shell-shocked.

"Why?" the other boy managed to choke out.

"Because you're easier to dance with than she is," Ryan said, without thinking.

There was a long silence, and Troy had his back pressed against the wall like he was never going to move again. Ryan could almost see the gears turning in his head. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and looked to be steadying his breath.

"Do–" he started, cheeks pinking a bit. He swallowed again. "Do you think– we could try that again?"

"Yeah," Ryan said, letting out the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding.

\------

"Is there dancing at graduation?" Troy asked, over the din of the crowd. He was crouched back behind the curtains, waiting for the lights in the auditorium to dim.

"I don't think so," Ryan said, frowning, trying to figure out why his belt wasn't buckling correctly. He had to be out at the start of the show, and his wardrobe was malfunctioning. "Why?"

"Well," Troy said, and then paused, voice hitching a bit. Ryan looked over to see him flash a goofy smile. "I–maybe I need some more practice."

Darbus clapped, sending the bodies around them into a flurry of renewed activity, but Ryan couldn't seem to get his fingers to work correctly anymore. He was fairly sure he looked like a complete idiot.

"Oh," he coughed. "Yeah. You are pretty shaky. I think you might."

The smile he got was worth it, and he didn't even notice when Sharpay stepped on his toes in her clamor to get out on the stage.


End file.
